Demon from the Dark

clenched and unclenched his fists as he thought about cupping those breasts, squeezing them....

His cock bobbed painfully as he strode toward her. Once he stood before her, he dragged his gaze up to meet hers. Her sultry eyes were heavy-lidded, the irises like starbursts.

She was desirous. Which meant she would have expectations of him that he doubted he could fulfill.

Seduction. I do not know how to do this. Would she want to be kissed? 'Twas taboo among the Trothan demons.

She probably thought he'd been with hundreds of females, as most demons his age would have been. She likely believed he was skilled at drawing pleasure from females.

I have no skill and nearly as little knowledge about her body. Yet when a large drop of water coursed from her chest down one of her proud breasts, his apprehensions grew dim. Have to touch them...

But as he reached for her, she eased away, shaking her head. No, he wanted to touch—

'Malkom, please.'

He hesitated. She wanted something of him now. You have had your turn—now it is hers. At length, he gave a nod, allowing her to lead him beside a fall of water. He even knelt when she did, though that put the water as high as his navel.

He remained tense when she moved behind him, running the cloth over his back and neck with deliberate strokes. His arms were next as she worked all the way down to his fingers and claws.

When she grazed her fingertips over the scars on his wrists, he recalled her reaction as she'd stripped him of his cuffs. Oh, yes, she'd known what those scars meant. He'd seen the pity in her expressive eyes. Which had shamed him. And those scars marked the least demeaning way he'd been used.

How would she react to learning the rest?

As she ran that soapy cloth over any part of him that she could reach, he decided that this bath was markedly different from what he'd remembered. There was no pain or strangling panic. He was still on edge, but his mind was filled with thoughts of her, wondering where she would touch him next, in what way she would touch him.

When she looped her arms around him to wash his chest, her bared breasts slipped across his back, rendering him dizzy with pleasure. The feel of those pink tips against him made his cock throb so intensely, he was tempted to begin masturbating under the water to assuage it—

The pad of her forefinger rubbed his pierced nipple. 'Ah, Carrow ...' Just when he was about to snatch her into his arms, she stood and began washing his hair, running her nails along his scalp.

For some reason this relaxed him, weakening him until he could barely keep his head lifted. Yet when she all but polished his horns, his shaft pulsed impossibly harder.

How much longer could he endure the building pressure? Had he not come earlier, there'd have been no withstanding this.

But if he touched her, he could hurt her, justifying her fears about his claiming. If he hurt her, then he'd never have this again—attention, care, interest.

He'd neverknow what thing she would do next.

With that in mind, he let her guide him to stand, cooperating when she coaxed him to lift his arms, palms against the rock face so water from above would run down over his head.

She knelt behind him, then took the cloth to his feet, working her way up his calves, her destination unmistakable. Would she touch his member? Run her hot, soapy hands over it? When her breast rubbed against his leg, his claws dug deep into the stone beside his head.

This position reminded him of being flogged—or worse. But the torture he'd known before merely had to be endured. Now he had to deny what he wanted more than anything he'd ever known.

Each of her touches made his cock strain painfully, every graze as tormenting to him as the bite of a whip.

His seed was rising, feeling like it would erupt against his will. And with it, his demon instinct began burning inside him again. Thoughts of tossing her to the ground ran riot. Of pinning her arms over her head as he plunged his cock betwixt her legs. He imagined tying her wrists behind her back, then laving her sex like an animal at drink....

When her hands reached above his knees, he gnashed his teeth and rammed one of his horns against the rock. Pain tempered his pleasure, buying him precious seconds.

A week ago, if someone had told Carrow that she'd be worshipping a wild-man vemon's naked body, kneeling before it, she'd have laughed.

But worshipping was exactly what she was doing, entranced by every rigid inch of him.

At first, she'd been methodical. Yet then she'd slowed her movements, helpless not to appreciate the masculine perfection of his body—the hollows at the sides of his rock-hard ass, the corded thigh muscles, the sharp rises and falls of his chiseled abs. Those pecs were made for a woman's nails to dig into.

His tan skin was dusted with golden-blond hair on his chest, arms, and legs. A trail of it descended from his navel to the slightly darker hair at his groin.

His shaft protruded from between his lean hips like a rod, his testicles heavy and begging to be fondled.

Carrow couldn't remember ever being this aroused in her entire life. This demon was raw, uncivilized—and he was making her melt.

By the time she reached his upper thighs, his body was thrumming. She thought he was holding his breath. Instead of touching him higher, she stood and began soaping his lower back and ass, his muscles tensing to her fingertips. He exhaled with disappointment.

Biting her lip, she reached around to work on his lower torso. His stomach dipped and flexed as she ran the cloth down that trail of golden hair. Again, just when she was about to reach his groin, she stopped.

Playing a dangerous game. His low groan grew nearly constant. He glanced over his shoulder down at her. His eyes had turned black once more, gleaming like onyx.

He was about to blow. If he lost control, he might hurt her again, but with a couple of quick strokes, the demon would be done. Time to 'wash' between his legs.

With light kisses over his back, she reached down to gently soap his heavy testicles from behind. He jerked, uneasy. Had no woman ever touched him there? Or had it simply been so long ago? She felt sadness to think of him being exiled here by himself for ages.

Tonight she would give him pleasure like he'd never known. Something to remember you by, Carrow?

Tamping down the thought, she slipped her hand around his waist, seeking his shaft. She wrapped her fingers around it as best as she could, biting back a moan at the feel of those piercings against her palm.

At her first touch, he jerked again, moving his legs out wider. Then he froze. Tension shot through him, and his erection faltered.

Something was very wrong, his emotions growing chaotic. She even detected ... rage?

Just as she was releasing him to retreat, he swirled around, knocking her hold loose, his clenched hand hitting her bad wrist.

'Demon! You almost rebroke ...' Words vanished when she glimpsed his face.

His expression was menacing, his fangs sharp. He snarled down at her.

As she backed away, eyes tearing at the pain, he shook his head hard, as if he were coming out of a trance.

Good for you, but I'm still bailing. She turned and hurried toward the side of the pool—

He looped his arm around her waist, dragging her against him. 'Ara ... Carrow, no,' he rasped brokenly. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent. Now his erection came raring back to life, the crown prodding the bottom of her ass.

'Put me down!' The more she struggled, the more she rubbed the tip. 'Don't say I didn't warn you.' She